


Edited To Add

by Fatebegins



Series: Edited To Add [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatebegins/pseuds/Fatebegins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a thuggish debt collector and Stiles is a single dad sitting on a lot of debts from his shady ex. Derek has a soft spot for Stiles' son and... subsequently falls for his clueless, sarcastic father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edited To Add

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is love!

  
  
“Peter is going to break my legs.”  
  
Derek doesn’t even look up from his steak; Scott is always so dramatic. “You probably deserve it.”  
  
“I _always_ get the hard assignments.”  
  
“Like hell you do, you’re just a pussy; always taken in by a sob story.”  
  
“The guy has a kid-- an adorable, _chubby-cheeked toddle_ r who offered me his lollipop--”  
  
“If he’s got money to buy candy, he’s got money to make payments.”  
  
“I’m going to get fucked up.”  
  
“Nah,” Derek finally does look up to give his friend a smile.  “You’ll most likely _get fucked_ , it’s the only reason Peter keeps you around anyway.”  
  
“Hey, we’re in a _relationship_.” Scott  stretches out on the couch, arms going above his head and even Derek can’t help checking him out. But that’s all he’ll ever do. Because, hot like fire or not, Scott is one of his oldest friends and tappin’ that would be like incest, and two: Peter would have no problem breaking _Derek’s_ legs.  
  
“…about you?”  
  
“Huh?” Derek’s missed the first part. “What did you say?”  
  
“I said,” Scott smirks like he knows why Derek wasn’t listening. “How about you, did you get the money from the school?”  
  
“Damn right I did.”  
  
“You really have no issue with threatening a priest? Aren’t you afraid of the lake of eternal fire?”  
  
“If the priest borrows money from Peter, he’s not worth shit in my book.”  
  
The door opens then and Peter comes in flanked by five guys. Derek recognizes them but it's not like they’re friends. The silent five have never spoken a word to Derek in the ten years since he joined. Back then as a scruffy seventeen year old, Derek had just assumed he had to earn his stripes.  Yeah, they still don’t say ‘good morning.’  
  
“Hey, Boss.” Derek greets only to have Peter walk right by him.  
  
It’s the customary outcome whenever Scott is in the same room as him.  
  
“Hey.” Scott’s grin is sunny, his bright eyes exuding charm full force. “That suit looks great on you--”  
  
“You get my money?” Peter grunts, but he’s not fooling anyone. The fact that he asked  is enough to broadcast that Scott is once again escaping unscathed. If it were Derek he’d probably be nursing a bloody lip or broken nose.  
  
“Nope.” Scott replies cheerfully, laying back down as he does. “Couldn’t do it.”  
  
“Why not?” Peter growls.  
  
“He has a kid! A little boy-- a cute little boy!” A scowl. “And he needs that money for milk! And lollipops, you have to have money for--” Scott’s words are cut off by Peter’s demanding  mouth.  
  
Yeah, this part always gets awkward.  
  
Scott sighs into the kiss, relaxes as he brings one leg up over the boss’s waist. It’s the only time Derek ever sees Peter look anything but murderous. He looks enraptured, love struck and it’s ditzy Scott -- the same guy who used to eat mud pies when they were in second grade-- who’s done that to him.  
  
“Mm, babe.” Scott moans, fingernails digging into Peter’s back as he starts to roll his hips.  
  
That’s Derek’s cue to leave.  
  
“Derek!” Peter’s voice reaches him just as he’s about to open the door. “Get my fucking money from the kid.”  
  
“Will do, boss.”  
  
This part is nothing new either.  
  
***  
  
“Dylan, no!”  
  
His two year old pauses at the sound of Stiles’ voice but his  little hand is still slowly reaching for the Daisies Stiles has just planted.  
  
“I said _no._ ”  
  
Dylan’s lower lip trembles, “ _Pease_?”  
  
“No, dude.” Stiles leads him back over to his little blue blanket. “We plant flowers so other people can enjoy them, remember? You don’t want to rip them out. That makes the whole thing pointless, like what if Bruce Wayne had just told everyone he was batman--what would be the point?”  
  
“ ‘Kay.” The little boy responds glibly before dropping down onto his bottom. Robin, their bull mastiff, who’d been napping startles awake as Dylan lands on his tail.  
  
A few seconds later Robin growls and Stiles frowns, still patting the soil around the hydrangeas. “Robin, he doesn’t mean it.” Dylan is always unintentionally harassing the dog. “He’s just playing.”  
  
When Robin growls again, low and menacing, Stiles turns prepared to scold him only to freeze. Robin is standing in front of Dylan, back stiff and teeth bared. Oblivious Dylan is smiling behind him, left hand clenching ripped up Daisies.  
  
Stiles quickly figures out what has gotten their attention.  
  
There’s a man standing less than four feet away. From Stiles’ vantage point he’s huge,  and muscled. Said muscles are  on display,  arms covered with tattoos. He’s dressed in all black: dark jeans, combat boots and button down black shirt, sleeves rucked up past his elbows.  His jaw is covered in stubble, mouth set in a grim line. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses.  
  
Stiles’ stomach plummets. “Robin, down.”  
  
Fucking Rafael.  
  
“Uh…” Stiles hurriedly scoops Dylan up, holding the toddler tight against his chest. There’s no doubt in his mind why the guy is here. His ex had really screwed him over this time.  
  
“I, uh, I told your friend that I’d have the m-money as soon as I could figure out where exactly to get it. It‘s weird right, like I can get loans for two hundred thousand dollars as a student but not to pay off the mob? Not that you’re the mob but I know you guys are really serious but it’s --”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Stiles shuts up, Dylan does not.  
  
“Hi!” His son beams cheerfully, hand waving as he tries his best to crawl away from Stiles. “Hi, Daddy!”  
  
“Sorry!” Stiles goes scarlet, he’s going to die or get beaten and his son is calling a hitman ‘daddy’. “He calls everyone that, he’s little, doesn’t know better! He needs me cause you know, he’s a baby and all--”  
  
“I told you to shut up.” The man’s voice holds a hint of home and Stiles thinks it’s ironic that he’d meet his maker at the hands of a native of the state he‘d fled.  
  
“Flower?” Dylan offers brightly and man, his kid has no sense of self preservation.  
  
The man’s mouth twitches once and  he bends down until he’s level with them. “Damn it, he is cute.”  
  
***  
  
“I feel bad for him.” Scott’s sitting in the boss’ lap when Derek gets back. “Did you rough him up? Did you rough him up in front of the baby?”  
  
“I didn’t get the money.” Those are words Derek has never had to say before.  
  
Peter regards him with unreadable eyes. “You mean he’s getting the money together.”  
  
“No, I mean I didn’t get the money; he doesn’t have it.”  
  
“You fucking sucker.”  
  
“Here.” Derek drops a stack of bills on the table and Peter lifts a brow. “It’s all there, two hundred grand.”  
  
“Thought you said he didn’t have it?”  
  
“He didn’t,” Derek replies honestly. “ But I did.”  
  
***  
  
Stiles contemplates fleeing in the night, he really does but then he realizes he has nowhere to go. His father has enough problems without Stiles bringing the mob down on him, Rafael’s disappeared into thin air and he has a two year old to think about--two year olds aren’t built to go on the run. Besides, Stiles’s little Flower Shop may be struggling but it’s literally all he has left. If he leaves he’ll be broke and turning tricks to buy Dylan lollipops within a month.  
  
His life fucking sucks.  
  
“Daddy!” Dylan shouts just as they’re starting down the cereal aisle. Stiles ignores him because oblivious toddler is always oblivious.  
  
“Daddy!” Dylan crows again gleefully, and Stiles feels the familiar rush of embarrassment, turns to laugh it off with the stranger of the day who his son has decided to greet so intimately and nearly throws up his meager breakfast.  
  
The guy from the park is there. The _hitman_ from the park is there, holding a box of _Smacks_ , face still as mean as ever and sunglasses on even though they’re inside.  
  
Stiles takes a step back, cart rolling as he does.  
  
“These were my favorite as a kid, too.”  He lifts up the box and Stiles panics. _Smacks_ is the brand Dylan cries for because he likes the lizard on the outside of the box.  
  
What the fuck? Has this guy been following them around the supermarket? Stiles stares at him blankly, is this some sort of code? Is this code for I’m going to break your legs?!  
  
“Mine?” Dylan answers for him,  little hands reaching for the box as the guy hands it over. His son literally hugs the damn cereal like it’s the most snuggly teddy bear in the world. “Thank you.”  
  
“He’s polite.” Hitman says and Stiles totally loses it, throws the box of cereal at the guy and just books it.  
  
“Byeee Daddy!” Dylan yells as they go and Stiles really, really hopes his son will grow out of this phase soon.  
  
***  
  
“Why are you bringing the guy cereal in the first place, you creepy stalker.” Scott’s perusing the pharmacy aisle leisurely, hands skipping over the tops of pregnancy test--wait, what the fuck?  
  
“Why are we looking at pregnancy tests?” Derek demands.  
  
“Oh,” His friend shrugs. “We’re trying for a baby. I’ve got the fever.”  
  
“Are you out of your mind?” Only Scott would make a life altering decision on the fly.  
  
“The chubby cheeked one was so cute, so I asked, and Peter said yes.”  
  
“Scottie, this is a kid we’re talking about, you can’t be someone’s father-- _Peter_ can’t be someone’s father! Hell, look at Liam, he’s a psychopath.”  
  
“Hey, that’s my step son you’re talkin’ about.”  
  
Never mind that said step son is _two years older_ than Scott.  
  
“You’re insane.”  
  
“You may not get it, but we do. We’re in love and that’s what people in love do, they knock each other up.”  
  
“The world isn’t ready for another Peter.”  
  
Scott finally selects a pregnancy test and he holds it in the air triumphantly, “We’ll see about that!”  
  
***  
  
“And they lived happily ever after.” Stiles finishes the story and closes the book carefully. Dylan’s fast asleep, lashes fanned out over his cheeks and his little rosebud mouth twitches as he dreams.  
  
Stiles’ heart swells in his chest, hands brushing light brown curls away from his son’s face. “I’m going to get us a happily ever after too, don’t you worry.”  
  
Just as Stiles is pulling the covers over them the doorbell rings and his stomach goes tight. They really don’t know anyone in this town, the few acquaintances Stiles has made wouldn‘t come to his house out of the blue.  
  
When he finally gets the nerve to open the door, Stiles is left flabbergasted.  
  
On his doorstep, neatly stacked, is crate of _Smacks_. And it’s a _crate_ , like with wooden boards and a base to hold the gigantic amount of cereal in.  
  
Stiles looks out into the darkness but sees nothing.  
  
***  
  
“Do you think he’ll like cherry?”  
  
“Do you think it’s weird you’re buying lollipops at Costco for someone else’s fucking kid? Not to mention that you paid this guy’s quarter of a million dollar debt.”  
  
“I think I’ll go with watermelon,” Derek ignores Scott and the silent five men that have now become his shadow. “I liked those when I was younger.”  
  
“Maybe grape?” Turns out the new group of guys aren’t so silent, this suggestion comes from a tall blonde; Derek thinks his name is Mark. “I would devour those.”  
  
“Nobody wanted grape,” Another butts in. “ That was the _worst_ flavor, ever.”  
  
“Just get a damn variety pack, you creep.” Scott snaps. “My feet hurt and this place is annoying as fuck.”  
  
“I want him to like it.”  
  
“Derek, all kids like candy and this kid is no different.”  
  
***  
  
It’s Saturday and proving to be even hotter than last weekend, so Stiles gets Dylan dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and takes him to the park. It’s cooler outside than in and Stiles can entertain his kid which is hard to do since they have no television, or DVD player or DVDs.  
  
Stiles had pawned them all Monday, got one hundred and fifty dollars for them. It’s a start. The little threats the hitman has been leaving around his house have really scared him. This isn’t a fucking game, this is his twisted life and Stiles needs to start paying back his asshole ex’s debt.  
  
Like clockwork, around noon, a shadow emerges. it’s the same guy, always is.  At least the mob has great customer service. Once again he’s wearing all black, combat boots on and laced up even in the heat.  
  
“I have some money.” Stiles says while simultaneously holding Dylan back. “It’s not much but…it’s all I have and tomorrow I’m going to try and refinance the mortgage for the shop.”  
  
The guys ignores him, stoops down to look at Dylan instead. “Hey, little man.”  
  
“Hi, Daddy!” Dylan smiles, dimples coming out in full force. “Look at Robin an’ the ducks.”  
  
“I brought you something.” Hitman extends a paper bag and Stiles starts to hyperventilate.  
  
It’s a bomb or a body part or something that holds a promise of immense  pain.  
  
“Lollis!” Dylan squeals in delight, feet jumping up and down. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” And for a moment Stiles thinks he sees the mean guy crack a smile.  
  
“Dylan, no.” Stiles bats the candy out of his hand, and all but throws the crumpled stack of bills he received from the pawn shop at the hitman. “Just take the money and go.”  
  
“He likes lollipops.”  
  
“Which are probably filled with poison!” Stiles snarls. “I’m going to speak to the bank so--”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
And that is getting to be a nasty habit.  
  
The guy unwraps a piece of candy, sucks it into his mouth while Dylan watches with envious eyes that are filling with tears.  
  
“See? They’re fine.”  
  
Stiles knows he should be quiet but fuck it, this is his son. “Eat another one, this time bite into it.”  
  
The guy grunts and Stiles just knows he’s rolling his eyes behind his dark aviators.  
  
“Wait! I chose.” Stiles digs into the bag, deep in the bottom--and seriously where did the guy buy a bag of lollipops this big?-- and selects one. “Here.”  
  
The hitman smirks, unwraps the candy and  sucks.  
  
Stiles must be crazy or it must be extra hot because his cheeks heat up and his eyes zero in on the way those plush lips look wrapped around the candy. He’s always had shit taste in guys; exhibit A: Rafael who not only knocked him up but split and left Stiles with a  two hundred thousand dollar tab.  
  
You’d think he’d learn his lesson but no, here Stiles is actually getting semi hard from watching a guy who will probably break his legs in the very near future suck on a lollipop.  
  
“Daddy!” Dylan whines and holy fuck is his kid oblivious. “Candy, _pease_.”  
  
Cute baby manners or not, Stiles is going to look out for his son. He stares at the hitman, “Bite down on it.”  
  
This time there’s no mistaking the smirk as he obliges. When Stiles’s satisfied the thug  isn’t dying, he lets Dylan accept the lollipop.  
  
The guy stays for another twenty minutes or so, even helping to clean Dylan’s sticky hands with wet wipes. He disappears shortly after though, leaving the one hundred and fifty dollars in the grass.  
  
***  
  
When Derek gets back to his penthouse, he’s hit with a feeling of loneliness. He’s getting older, he knows that. His entire life has been dedicated to helping Peter move the bad shit and calling in dues. As a result, his love life is nothing more than a string of one night stands.  
  
Derek’s never thought about kids; ever.  
  
In fact, up until exactly  two months ago when Dylan first gave him a drool filled smile, Derek was pretty sure he hated them.  Now it’s all he can think about; children and family.  
  
Having someone look up to him, call him Daddy.  
  
Derek’s not stupid; he’s watched Dylan call an old man feeding ducks in the park daddy, call a jogger daddy too, and even  call Robin Daddy; to the little boy ‘daddy’ just means a man other than his father. Still, Derek likes it when Dylan looks up at him like he can hang the moon.  
  
The son he likes; the father...well, Derek’s not so sure.  
  
Stiles, age 23 is sharp tongued, sarcastic and talks way too fucking much. He’s always scolding Dylan and Derek for everything, and he keeps trying to shove his fistful of ratty bills into Derek’s pockets.  
  
At least he’s pretty, Derek thinks as he stretches out on the couch. Stiles has got warm bedroom eyes and wide, kissable lips. And fuck him, but Derek likes his scrawny legs and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about them wrapped around his waist while he’s buried balls deep.  
  
But that’s not what this is about, Derek is just getting soft in his old age. It’s a phase.  
  
Yeah, that’s it.  
  
***  
  
“No, Daddy?” Dylan says as soon as they’re seated in the park and Stiles knows who he’s referring to which means this has to stop. His son has seemed to zero in on one specific male and now is calling a hitman ‘daddy’.  He never thought he’d yearn for the days when his kid would call homeless men Daddy.  
  
Stiles is a failure as a parent on so many levels.  
  
“The _man_ , Dylan, is gone.”  
  
His son’s eyes fill with tears and Stiles scrambles for a toy to distract him from his impending tantrum.  
  
“Yay!” Dylan suddenly cheers right before running off as fast as his short, little legs will carry him. Robin, the traitor, takes off right after him.  
  
The man is standing near the lake, right at the foot of the bench. Stiles is horrified to see his child launch himself at the man, is even more horrified when the guy picks Dylan up and hugs him.  
  
“You…you…you!” Stiles sputters before he gets his bearings. “Give him to me!”  
  
“No,  daddy.” Dylan chooses that exact moment to humiliate him, hands tightening around the man’s neck.  
  
“Dylan Stilinski--”  
  
The man starts laughing, surprising both Stiles and Dylan.  
  
“What?” Stiles glares, momentarily caught off guard.  
  
“My mom used to do that all the time when she was annoyed,” His voice raises to a high falsetto as he mocks the poor woman who had the misfortune of raising him. “Derek Hale, you eat your vegetables right now’! You sound just like her.”  
  
“Your name is Derek?”  
  
“Yup.” The guys responds, challenging .  
  
“Well, Derek, uh, I mean sir.” Stiles really needs to work on his social skills. “I’ve taken a mortgage on my store, I h-have seventy thousand and I swear--”  
  
“You don’t need to pay me.”  
  
“I don’t?”  
  
“I paid your debt with Peter, so you owe him zilch.”  
  
“You what?” Stiles shouts, several people look their way. “Why would you do that?”  
  
Derek shrugs. “I felt like it.”  
  
“So now I owe _you_ two hundred grand?!”  
  
“No, you don’t.” Derek takes Dylan’s hand and leads him over to the swings.  
  
And that seems to be the end of it.  
  
***  
  
Derek has no idea what he’s doing; it’s laughable but here he is.  
  
The poor clerk in front of him looks terrified, hands white as she scans item after item. From behind a row of teddy bears the store manager watches them fearfully, head poking out periodically to stare.  
  
This is how he’s treated in a fucking toy store.  
  
Everyone knows who he is, what he does and they’re all terrified.  
  
Normally, Derek would bask in the glow of his power but now he’s just frustrated.  
  
“Do you think he’ll like the race cars or the blocks better?” Derek asks the check out girl.  
  
Said check out girl looks like she’s about to pee her pants, “I.. yes. The cars and blocks.”  
  
“Which one will he like better? He’s turning three.”  
  
“Uhm, which on do you like better?”  
  
“Fuck it.” Derek sighs and because he can, lights  a cigarette. “Keep the change, sweetheart.”  
  
“No, thank you.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“I really don’t want to owe you anything.”  
  
Fucking twat.  
  
“Fine,” Derek rolls his eyes, “Have a nice night.”  
  
***  
  
“So,” Stiles is not even surprised to open the door and see Derek. “Do I owe you a hundred thousand now or what?”  
  
“Try two hundred thousand, and I already told you, you don’t owe me squat.”  
  
“Is that…” Stiles’s voice dries up. Derek is for once without his dark glasses, face completely unobscured  and holy hell, he’s beautiful.  There’s no other way to describe such big, incredible eyes and long, dark almost feminine lashes.  
  
Beautiful. The guy kills people for a living but looks like a superhero. The irony.  
  
“You swallow your tongue?” Derek sets down shopping bags and Stiles has no idea what to say, so he lets everything come out.  
  
“What’s in the bags? Why are you here, anyway? Is it because of the rain tomorrow? We can‘t go to the park in the rain.” Stiles snaps out of it. “ Wait, are they body parts? You can‘t just cut off a person’s limb.”  
  
“Yes, I walk around with body parts in Spiderman gift bags--”  
  
“ I don’t have two hundred thousand dollars, and really, you should find Rafael Lombardi he’s the one who borrowed the money! Not us, we were just--”  
  
“Where’s Dylan?”  
  
“Yeah, about that. I don’t think it’s conducive to have you just strolling in and out, he’s starting to get really attached to you.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Don’t you think that will be an issue when you decide to kill me? I’m his father you know, he kind of likes me. How will you explain that to him--will you explain my death to him--”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“And stop telling me to shut up!”  
  
Derek tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and Stiles has the feeling he’s about to die right before Derek leans in and kisses him, just grabs him up against his chest and goes to town, tongue pushing in and everything. The crazy part is that Stiles lets him, whimpers and parts his lips for the guy who will most likely break his bones very shortly.  
  
As far as kisses go, Stiles is reeling; it’s the best damn thing that he’s ever felt. Derek is so strong and forceful, mouth and tongue skilled and hands possessive as they travel up and down Stiles’s back. When Derek grips his ass, Stiles encourages him, cants his hips up and goes on his tip toes to rub against him. Derek appreciates the effort, growls against his lips before sucking kisses down his neck.  
  
“Daddy?”  
  
They both freeze, Stiles shoving away first. Dylan is standing near the couch hazel eyes  curious.  
  
“Happy birthday, little man.” Derek grabs the bags  and Stiles sincerely hopes there really aren’t body parts in there.  
  
Dylan shrieks with happiness, all traces of sleep disappearing as he races for the bright gift bags.  
  
“How’d you know it was his birthday?”  
  
“I just do.”  
  
Stiles watches his son open the gifts to reveal a Wii, video games, race cars and brightly colored toy blocks. Stiles could never afford anything like this, isn’t sure how he feels that Derek is spending so much money on Dylan.  
  
“We don’t have a t.v.” Stiles states the obvious. “And you shouldn’t have gotten him anything.”  
  
“My birthday!” Dylan repeats happily as he tries to climb on top of the Wii. “Box, Poppy!”  
  
“It’s  a Wii, Dyl.” Stiles cringes just thinking of the price of the ‘box’. “and it’s too much.”  
  
“Every kid deserves to be spoiled.”  
  
“Derek,” Stiles suddenly just feels sad, like really bad about his life and stupid decisions. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Derek replies levelly. “But I like it, I like Dylan and I like you…sometimes.”  
  
It’s not even a compliment but Stiles can feel his face heating up like it is; there must be something clinically wrong with him--like a massive tumor that’s inhibiting whatever spot of his brain controls his common sense.  
  
The next morning when Stiles is leaving for work he nearly breaks his foot. Sitting on his doorstep is a brand new huge plasma t.v. still in the box.  
  
***  
  
It’s getting harder and harder for Derek to come back to his penthouse. He can definitely see the irony in being more comfortable in Stiles’ shack-- and that’s describing it nicely--as opposed to his luxury top floor apartment.  Stiles’ house is literally four rooms. One bedroom that Stiles shares with Dylan, a tiny bathroom, even tinier kitchen and a living room that Robin --the giant beast--occupies.  
  
Even though Stiles’s entire house can fit in Derek’s bathroom he finds himself wanting to go back. The little shack has Dylan who’s growing more and more every day, exploring the world with a wonder only a child can.  
  
And it has Stiles--sharp tongued, naggy Stiles who makes Derek’s pulse vibrate. Stiles who will climb into his lap with a bit of coaxing after the kid’s asleep. Derek’s never been the type of guy to hang out with a  guy or a girl and not get any action. But here he his, more than happy with making out  and groping.  
  
So fucking pedestrian.  
  
Just as Derek settles in to watch t.v., the phone rings and Derek reaches for it tiredly, it’s Peter with another job. He doesn’t have friends, and he hasn’t had family for a long time.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Derek?”  
  
It’s Stiles and Derek tenses, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”  
  
“We’re fine.” Stiles responds and he sounds just as worn out as Derek feels, “I’m sorry, I know you gave me this number for emergencies only but--”  
  
“Lemme talk.” Dylan sobs clearly in the background, “I wanna talk to daddy.”  
  
“Why’s he crying ?”  
  
Stiles sighs, “He wanted you to read his bedtime story, suddenly I’m not good enough, never mind I carried him for nine months, bathe and feed him! It’s so--”  
  
“Give him the phone.”  
  
A slight huff and then some static before Dylan’s babyish voice rings through, “D-daddy?”  
  
“Hey, little man, what’s wrong?”  
  
“How come you’re n-not here?”  
  
“I will be, tomorrow.” Derek mentally blocks out Peter’s anger  at another delay.  “So go to sleep.”  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“I wanna read with you, not Poppy.”  
  
“Dylan…”  
  
“ _Pease_.” The sobbing comes again and Derek rubs his temples.  
  
 It’s sad that he’s brought to his knees by a three year old.  
  
Derek grabs his keys, “I’m coming.”  
  
***  
  
Stiles catches himself as he sets down the third plate.  
  
Derek has been coming over a lot lately; he’s not sure how he feels about that.  
  
Well, he knows how his dick feels, it’s happy. They fool around a lot, mostly just make out and rub against each other because Dylan is never really in bed when he’s supposed to be.  
  
Stiles’ brain however is freaking the fuck out; he’s in a weird relationship with a thug. A guy who collects debts for a loan shark who also happens to be in the mob. A mobster that his little boy calls Daddy.  
  
Shit.  
  
Not good; if his father could see him now.  
  
And his heart? That damn thing can’t be trusted, always leaping when Derek smiles at him or racing when Derek pushes him up against the wall.  
  
“I hope you didn’t over cook my steak.”  
  
It takes effort but Stiles’ manages not to jump at the sound of Derek’s voice. The guy has just started letting himself in, which should be worrying because Stiles certainly didn’t give him a key.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you not to do that?” Stiles counters. “And your stupid steak is medium rare, your majesty.”  
  
“I can open the door now.” Dylan says proudly.  
  
“Smart kid.” Derek ruffles his hair and helps him up onto his seat.  
  
Stiles watches them for a moment, struck by how _right_ they look. Derek breaking up pieces of bread for Dylan while his son sits patiently and watches, mouth open like a little bird.  
  
After dinner Derek sleeps over for the first time. Dylan fell asleep on the couch and when Stiles reached to take him to bed, Derek’s hand had stopped him. Their first time is nothing like Stiles expected, it’s intense and somehow more intimate than the act itself. At least on his end.  
  
When Derek had pushed inside of him for the first time, God, Stiles had nearly come right then and there--and wouldn’t have that made Derek even cockier? The burn and pleasure had been so intense. For the first time ever, there were no words in his head, his mind shutting down completely and base instinct taking over as he just took everything Derek had to offer. Derek had been completely in control, working him over into a pile of mush, thick cock hitting his prostrate on every deep stroke. Stiles has never come so hard in his life, nails scratching down Derek’s broad back.  
  
Derek kisses him on the forehead in the morning, lips dry and warm. Stiles pretends to be asleep, watches him tuck a pillow at Dylan’s side so he won’t fall off the bed.  
  
He’s so fucked.  
  
***  
  
“What am I to you?”  
  
Stiles and his damn inconvenient mouth has to ruin the mood, as usual.  
  
The question comes right when Derek gets his hand down the back of his pants, moves a finger down to rub against his tight little hole. Maybe he can distract him--  
  
“Answer the question.”  
  
No such luck.  
  
“You’re a cock block to me.” Derek snaps, mouth still glued to the sweet curve of Stiles’s neck.  
  
“I’m serious!”  
  
“So am I.”  
  
Stiles pushes him away, wriggles out from beneath his arm. “I don’t sleep around.”  
  
“You’d better not,” Jealousy rears it’s head. “ I’m the only person you’re sleeping with.”  
  
“I meant--”  
  
The only way to shut Stiles up is to kiss him and Derek is more than happy to do just that, pressing Stiles against the arm of the chair while he licks into his mouth.  It works. Stiles forget all about his stupid question and kisses him back, hands pulling up Derek’s shirt impatiently  until he takes the hint and pulls it over his head. Dylan’s down for a nap so it’ll have to be couch sex.  
  
Stiles is straddling his lap, face flushed and mouth bitten red as he slides down Derek’s cock, when Derek answers his question.  
  
“Mine,” Derek yanks him down just as he thrusts up, swallowing Stiles’ shout as he buries himself to the hilt. Stiles’ is hot and tight,  clenching around Derek ‘s cock greedily. “That’s what you are to me.”  
  
***  
  
“I thought I  told you to watch him?” Stiles takes in the absolute chaos but can’t find it in himself to be truly angry. This is what he gets for turning his back for more than thirty seconds.  
  
Derek is sitting on the floor, aviators on and crushed dirt in his hair. He looks dazed. Dylan is next to him, several flower pots overturned and crumpled flowers in his hands. Many of the crushed and bruised petals are stuck to Derek’s hair and clothes.  
  
“Did Dylan--” Before Stiles can even finish asking Dylan yells “ta-dah” and flings another handful at Derek’s face. “You should stop him.”  
  
“I don’t wanna piss him off. I told him no before and he cried.”  
  
“Really?” Now Stiles is really laughing.  “You’re afraid that a three year old will be mad at you? Never knew you were such a wimp.”  
  
“Shut up.” Derek glares.  
  
“Bad word!” Dylan admonishes and Stiles smirks. “Say sorry.”  
  
“Say sorry, Derek.” Stiles can’t resist.  
  
Derek’s glare intensifies. “Sorry.”  
  
***  
  
It’s twenty minutes of this half naked blonde running through the woods screaming for help and  Derek has just about had it. Leave it to Stiles to like these slasher flicks. They all have the same plot, same slutty girl and axe wielding maniac chasing slutty girl in her underwear.  
  
The axe wielding maniac crashes through the closet wall and Stiles jumps beside him, hand gripping Derek‘s thigh hard.  
  
“How can this scare you?”  
  
“How could it not?” Stiles sounds genuinely surprised. “ Some psycho with a six foot sword out to chop my head off--that’s scary.”  
  
“I’d just shoot him.”  
  
“They never die that easy.”  
  
“They do when you empty six rounds in their face.”  
  
“You say that like you know.”  
  
Derek shrugs, “Maybe I do.”  
  
Stiles shudders.  “You’re kidding, right?”  
  
“You know what I am.”  
  
“You don’t shoot people.” The words are hesitant, laden with something Derek can’t decipher.  
  
It makes Derek’s stomach churn, makes him feel uncertain but he’s not a liar and he never wants to lie to Stiles.  
  
“I do when I have to.”  
  
***  
  
Stiles watches as Derek carries a sleeping Dylan into the living room and lays him down on the faded play-mat. Robin moves out of the way  when Derek locks the playpen before all but running into the bedroom on his tiptoes.  
  
“He’s too young to be sexiled.”  
  
“I’m too horny to _not_ sexile him.” Derek retorts already tugging his shirt over his head. “We’ll bring him back in as soon as I’m done with you.”  
  
“I’m not a toy.” Stiles licks his lips, eyes tracking Derek’s taut belly and bare skin.  
  
“Never said you were.”    
  
The pants come off and all thoughts leave Stiles’ mind as he takes in the impressive bulge of  Derek’s semi hard cock.  
  
“Then again,” Stiles shifts to his knees on the bed, mouth watering when Derek smirks and saunters forward. “You do have a valid point.”  
  
“Oh I do, do I?” Long fingers grip his hair, urge him forward and Stiles goes willingly. “Want to elaborate on that?”  
  
Deviously, Stiles sucks just the tip, tongue swirling over the crown and collecting pre-come.  
  
“Keep up the sass and you’ll be sucking yourself off.”  
  
It’s a lie. They both know that Stiles’ kryptonite is amazing hot sex and Derek always delivers. Still, Derek shuts up and Stiles gets to have his moment of victory.  
  
***  
  
“The one with the fairies and the tranny dad--”  
  
“Fairly Odd Parents.” Derek doesn’t even look up from his phone when he answers Scott. Stiles has texted him a photo of Dylan in the garden, the little tyke has once again pulled up the flowers Stiles just planted in the store front. Dylan is standing near the wall (definitely in the time out corner), eyes guilty, cheeks tear stained but smile satisfied as he holds out dirt covered hands.  
  
“And the one with the crab and starfish--”  
  
“Spongebob Squarepants.”  
  
“Or maybe the theme could be the little explorer kid, not Dora but--”  
  
“Her cousin Diego--what the fuck, Scottie!” Derek jumps when a pillow hits his face  
  
“Just how much time have you been spending with the guy and his chubby cheeked kid?”  
  
Derek flushes, “Not much.”  
  
“Man, you know the entire line up of Nick Jr; you’re definitely fucking the guy.”  
  
“So what if I am?”  
  
“Hey, I’m not a hater, I think it’s a good thing. It’s like a ready made family, a microwave dinner.”  
  
“Shut up, asshole.” Derek snipes even as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “They’re amazing .”  
  
“Did you just talk a guy up to me? You haven’t done that since fourth grade when you thought our art teacher-- ouch!”  
  
This time Derek throws the pillow at him.  
  
***  
  
This is not how Stiles pictured his life.  
  
Nothing has ever gone as planned in his life but all the accidents have been happy ones. Dylan hadn’t been planned---had nearly given Stiles a heart attack when Stiles found out he was pregnant two days before Rafael rode off into the sunset--but he’s become the brightest part of his life.  
  
Now there’s Derek.  
  
Stiles knows what he does, it’s not a secret. People treat Derek like he‘s a mythical dragon that eat virgins yearly , they’re afraid of him and probably have good reason to be. But the Derek Stiles sees isn’t scary. He’s attentive and sweet with Dylan, understanding and helpful with Stiles.  
  
There’s not a lot in life you can plan for, and finding someone you care about-- someone you can love-- is impossible to plan. You take what life gives you, and Derek is a gift. Stiles is already finding it hard to imagine life without him.  
  
As  soon as he hears Derek’s car, Stiles jumps under the covers and closes his eyes. He’s supposed to be recuperating from the flu while Derek takes Dylan to the park.  
  
“Feeling better?”  
  
Stiles opens his eyes. “A little, and fucking hell, Derek you have to stop buying him things.”  
  
“It’s only a stuffed dinosaur.”  
  
“Right.” Stiles can see more bags in the living room, not to mention a bright bag of candy and judging by Dylan’s sticky cheeks he’s already dug in. “You’re going to have him climbing the walls tonight.”  
  
“I’ll handle it.” Derek steers Dylan out of the room. “I’ll go heat up something for you.”  
  
***  
  
When Derek lets himself in he finds Stiles and Dylan in the tiny living room. Stiles is on the couch reading something and Dylan is sitting on the carpet in front of the flat screen.  
  
“Hey.” Derek says.  
  
Stiles doesn’t look up from his book so Derek pulls his head back to kiss him.  
  
“Good to see you Casanova.” Stiles grins. “But this is a limited edition comic--”  
  
“I can’t handle anymore batman and robin talk tonight.”  
  
Dylan looks up, dimples appearing. “Hi, Daddy!”  
  
“What’s up, little man.” Derek sits down next to him moving his legs down when Dylan crawls up onto his lap.  
  
“I’m gonna watch Dora today.” Dylan announces, leaning back so he can pat Derek’s cheek.  
  
“Not Diego?”  
  
“No.” Dylan settles back against this chest. “‘kay, Daddy?”  
  
“Okay.” Derek presses a kiss to his brow, inhales the scent of talcum powder. He feels like a wimp, and for once resents Peter. He’s leaving in three days, Peter’s expecting something big from Columbia and Derek can’t sit it out.  
  
  
***  
  
Here’s the thing: Stiles has never felt the need to be in love. Even with Rafael, he’d just been having a good time, getting away and living it up in a new city. The thought of finding one person to spend the rest of his life with had been laughable.  
  
Except now it’s a reality.  
  
Stiles looks over at Derek, watches the way he absently pats Dylan’s back as he sleeps and just knows.  
  
“I love you.” The three words slip out as natural as breathing.  
  
Derek’s reaction isn’t stellar, he freezes, eye twitching a little and says:  
  
“Dude, no you don’t.”  
  
“ _Dude_ ,” Stiles stares at his infuriating man. “Yes, I do.”  
  
Stiles’ stomach sinks when Derek pulls back, moves Dylan onto the bed and grabs his keys of the nightstand.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Leaving.”  
  
“What? Derek, you don’t have to say anything back--”  
  
“I don’t do this.”  
  
The apprehension worsens. “You don’t do what exactly?”  
  
“This! The ‘I love yous’ and the happy ‘I fucking love lucy’ family bullshit!”  
  
“Newsflash, Genius! You’ve been doing that for _months_! Words don’t change anything.”  
  
“It’s not what I want.”  
  
“If this isn’t what you want--if we’re not what you want--then why? Why hang around like you care?” Stiles’s voice breaks on the last word along with his heart. “….Are we not what you want?”  
  
Derek looks pained before his face hardens with resolve. “I can’t.”  
  
“Fuck you.” Stiles whispers before anger hits and he yells, “Get the fuck out.”  
  
“You don’t understand--”  
  
“Except I do,” And fuck, Stiles is not a crier. He didn’t shed a tear when Rafael just took off. He’s been on his own for three years, gave birth alone and raised a child on his own and this is what is breaking him. “Were we nothing but a game to you--”  
  
“That’s not true--”  
  
“We were a lull in your routine, something to tide you over until you found your newest entertainment.” He’d been an idiot to think otherwise. “Just go.”  
  
Dylan chooses that moment to wake up, whimpering crankily at being disturbed. Neither of them move and Stiles swears his heart is going to beat out of his chest.  He doesn’t want to let Derek see how hurt he is.  
  
As usual when Dylan wakes and spots Derek, he holds his hand out to the other man.  
  
Derek takes a step forward and Stiles grabs Dylan up against him, “I said get out.”  
  
***  
  
It’s been weeks since Derek’s seen his family; _weeks_.  
  
He feels like there’s a gaping hole inside of him. There’s nothing he misses more than Stiles biting wit and bright eyes; Dylan’s toothy smile and shining trust.  
  
It hurts.  
  
A lot.  
  
Derek goes through the motions, going after debts like there’s a fire lit under his ass. Peter doesn’t say anything just watches him with those unnerving, unreadable eyes.  
  
The only person who says something is Scott. They’re on the way to the drugstore and they run into Stiles on the way out. He's on the phone, speaking in a low tone as he pushes the stroller. Dylan is fast asleep, slumping forward, green dinosaur in hand as he dozes.  
  
Derek just wants to kidnap both of them, lock them in forever.  
  
When Stiles looks up and sees them, his face freezes and then it goes blank.  
  
He walks away and Derek feels something inside of him tear loose and break.  
  
“Are you sure you did the right thing?”  
  
They both know about the cocaine, and they’re both aware just how tenuous this all is. Peter won’t back down, will always do what it takes to remain on top. He believes that power is everything. Derek used to feel the same.  
  
Derek shakes Scott’s hands off, “I’m sure.”  
  
***  
  
It’s been awhile since Stiles has seen creepy men from a distance, but here they are.  
  
This time there’s five of them, all wearing suits and jackets; how fucking cliché.  
  
“Stilinski.” The older man steps forward and Stiles doesn’t move, mostly because Dylan’s asleep in his lap and the kid hasn’t been sleeping well.  
  
“That’s me?”  
  
“He is cute.” The man smiles, “Derek chose well.”  
  
Weird.  
  
Stiles’ life is fucking weird.  
  
“Uh thank you? But we’re not seeing each other anymore. We were never really together or whatever--I owed money, lots of it, not me but Rafael.” Stiles swallows. “Uh, but you know that.”  
  
“You do talk too much.”  
  
Stiles looks at the five guys behind him. “I’ll shut up now.”  
  
“Derek is a good guy, only nephew I have.” And that  Stiles did not know. “Not many people do.” Peter answers the unspoken surprise. “He’s been with me for a long time, was happy with that, but he’s not anymore.”  
  
“Not my fault!” Stiles immediately lets that be known, just in case there are legs to be broken.  
  
“It is, but it’s fine.” Peter smiles and it looks like a grimace. Freakin’ Creepy. “He thinks he needs to stay with me, which means his life is too fucked up for you --”  
  
“That’s not true! That asshole thinks--”  
  
“He’s right, but I’m letting him go.” Peter’s gaze drops to Dylan. “He cares about you both, and he deserves this. Go to him.”  
  
***  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
Stiles is the last person Derek expected to see when the doorbell rang but there he is. Dylan’s in his stroller, fortunately asleep--but holy fuck, that’s Robin plowing into his house, giant paws on his custom leather sofa.  
  
“What the fuck?” Derek swivels out of the way, dodging the  stroller’s wheels.  
  
“It's taking a lot not to slap you!” Clearly angry, Stiles shoves past him. “Let’s get one thing straight, you don’t control me or my choices. I’m an adult and you had no right to just decide that we were better off without you! I thought you didn’t care.” Stiles actually does hit him this time, a hard jab right in his stomach. “You fucking tool, I thought you didn’t want us.”  
  
“I…”  Derek struggles for an explanation before he just kind of grunts and shrugs. “ I break peoples' legs.”  
  
Stiles’ brow furrows, “I know.”  
  
“I’ve killed people.” Derek admits flatly.  
  
“I wasn‘t born yesterday.” Stiles takes a step forward, crowding into his space. “ But you’re not a monster, you had to protect yourself.”  
  
“That’s the kind of person you want around Dylan?”  
  
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t kill people in front of him.”  
  
“You two would be better of without me.” Derek forces himself to say the words. “ You should find a man Dylan can look up to.”  
  
“You idiot, you’re his father, he looks up to you.” Another punch and Derek should really be able to dodge them. “And your creepy uncle--thanks for filling me in on that by the way-- said he was going to fire you.”  
  
“He did.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Stiles the ice cream man is afraid to even look me in the eye.”  
  
A small smile. “Dylan will love all the free ice cream.”  
  
“You’re serious?” Derek asks but it’s been too damn long, he can’t resist pulling Stiles against his chest, touching his cute little ass. He inhales is scent, mouths along his neck “You have to be sure.”  
  
“I’ve been sure for a long time.” A pause. “I wouldn’t have told you I loved you if I wasn’t.”  
  
Derek tightens his arms around Stiles--pain in the ass best thing that ever happened to him, Stiles. “I love you, too.”  
  
“It’s about time you admitted that, I mean I already knew but--” Stiles shuts up, sighing when Derek pushes his tongue into his mouth, sucks and nibbles at the lips he’s missed so much.  
  
Derek loves to kiss the words right out of Stiles mouth, and now he has a lifetime to do it.


End file.
